


Dirt Roads

by priuchi



Category: Cars (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Poly, bi mcqueen, lots of story fixes, much better writing, okay we're taking this one from the top, salqueen with a side of cal, still blonde mcqueen, still humanized, uhhh.. this story is so much more than the relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2019-10-16 02:51:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17541263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priuchi/pseuds/priuchi
Summary: Lightning McQueen's life changed when he fell in love with the little desert town he went crashing into. He found a home, and he found a family. But no matter how much Lightning wants things to stay just how they are now, you can't stop time from moving forward. Sometimes change isn't found family and new beginnings... sometimes change is hard. [Humanized]





	1. November, 2007

The bass line of some unrecognizable dance pop was the only sign that the party was still raging on in the hotel below his feet. The night's gentle wind against his face felt refreshing after being around all the people in the hotel’s club. The city below buzzed on, never stopping. How weird was it that just a year ago a loud, end of season party would be exactly the kind of place he’d want to be in. Loud and fast, just like him. Funny how things changed. Funny how all he could think about in a city like New York was dry heat and dusty roads, and her saying his name as they speed down the aging road, top down of the blue corvette down. 

"Hey Patches," she said, coming up behind him, "whatcha doing up here?"

“Stargazing.” 

“There aren't really any stars up there, you know.” She laughed as she tilted her head to look up at the light polluted sky. He turned toward her. Sally. As beautiful as the day they met. Her hair curled for the party, her sparkling earrings peaking out between the bobs. Her blue dress hugged her body, and her black ankle boots gave her the slight height boost she needed to be taller than her boyfriend. McQueen tightened his grip on his glass as he sipped whiskey before replying.

“I know. But a guy can dream. I guess I'm just feeling a little homesick.”She crossed over to him as he spoke, heels clicking against concrete.

“If you’re tired of the party, maybe we should just head back to the room.” 

He agrees, smiling faintly as he took her hand, letting her lead him off the roof and down through the hotel to their room. 

-

They’re flying down the dirt together, creating dusty clouds above the old track. If there’s a heaven this is probably what it looks like, McQueen thought to himself as he drifted around the curve, the old man hot on his tail. What started as some friendly laps had turned into “loser buys drinks at Flo’s”, and the young racer was not about to give Doc the satisfaction. He flew over the finish line, barely a hoods length ahead of Doc. They both stumble out of their cars, laughing and moving toward each other. The old man put his hand on Lightning’s shoulder, looking at him with bright eyes. 

“Good race, kid.” 

Then the alarm blared. Lightning laid in bed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling and letting reality sink back in. Damn, that dream again. It was such a frequent dream for him to have while away from home. He sat up once his mind was away from home. Sally’s side of the bed was empty and the shower was running in the hotel bathroom, so McQueen dragged himself out of bed and throws his running clothes on. He put his headphones in as he headed out of the hotel lobby, his thumb hovering over his music before rethinking it and opening his contacts instead. He started jogging once the phone began ringing, half expecting it to end up going to voicemail. But after a few rings the familiar voice Doc Hudson greeted him.

“Hey kid. You do realize it’s 5 in the morning here, right?”

“Yeah-” Lightning chuckled some. “Sorry. But I figured you’d be the only one awake back home.”

“Feelin’ homesick?” 

“You know me too well. I had that dream again.”

“Oh yeah? We’ll have to get another race on when you make it back here then.” 

McQueen laughed, agreeing wholeheartedly. His jog turned into a walk, a long walk, while he and Doc talked. Hudson explained what Lightning and Sally have missed in town over the last week, and Lightning told Doc about all the fun he’s had with Sally and all their big name friends in New York. It’s a “where’d you go?” text from Sally that finally gets Lightning heading back to the hotel, but he doesn’t get off the phone until he’s stepping into the lobby. 

“Thanks for the chat, Doc. I needed it.”

“Try not to let that homesickness ruin the rest of your vacation, kid. Okay?” 

“Yeah I hear you, I won’t. See you in a few more days.” He sighed a little, hanging up the phone and pulling his headphones out. A few more days. Talking to his mentor was supposed to be a remedy for the yearning to be back home, but it made him even more homesick. Who would have thought he’d have fallen so hard for some washed up town in the middle of the desert? But   
there he was, a year and a few months later, wanting nothing more than to be back there. 

-

McQueen had never really been a fan of flying. It was less of a height issue and more of a control issue. Quick reaction times and trust in yourself meant nothing on a plane. But in a car, when he was driving, it was _his_ hand on the wheel and _his_ instincts ready to take over. That’s why anytime the young racer had to travel he either did it in his own Mustang or alongside someone he trusted to drive, like Mac or Doc. There had never been a time where McQueen had wanted to pick a plane ticket over the open road.

But driving back from New York? He regretted not flying. 

The regret of having to spend another four days away from home set in as the pair was cruising down i-78, Lightning pushing 80 in a 70. 

“Hey, Patches. This isn’t a race track.” Sally mocked from the passenger's seat after glancing at the speedometer. “And this isn’t a back road out west, either.” 

“I know that. But everyone else is speeding. And I want to make good time.” 

“Lightning McQueen, if everyone was jumping off a bridge would you?”

“I dunno, are you one of the people jumping off?” He quipped back, before losing a couple numbers on his speed.

They took turns manning the driver's seat, sort of. Lightning would really only yield his position at the wheel when his eyes would start to hurt from a mix of exhaustion and having his eyes fixed on the road ahead. They made less stops than Sally would have liked. A night in Dayton, Ohio. The next night in Springfield, Missouri. When McQueen woke her up to leave in the morning in Springfield she could tell he had hardly slept. But he seemed spunkier, much more like his usual, non-homesick self again. _Of course,_ Sally realized as her boyfriend headed off the i-44 and onto Route 96, _of course this is making him feel better._

The racer had a hard time not just gunning it for the three miles where Route 96 was just 96. There were no signs indicating it. Not a single posting. Lightning didn’t need one to know. Three miles along that road and then he floored it, laughing. Sally gripped the edge of her seat, but she laughed along with him while he flew down what had once upon a time been the greatest road America had. 

Sometimes the road would disappear, forcing them back on an interstate. But every time there was a chance to be on that road, or at least to drive on a road that covered where the old one once was, McQueen was on it. They ate at small town diners and stated at small town motels, happy to give some business to people who didn’t have the luxury of having some big shot piston cup racer living in their little unmarked dot along Route 66. McQueen would say “can you imagine what this place was like back in the day!” and Sally would smile. If the guy could, he would probably spend the rest of his life just going from town to town, bringing them all back into their prime like he had back home. 

-

Lightning lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while he listened to Sally’s steady breathing beside him. They had stopped in Gallup. Really he had wanted to drive straight through it and onward to Arizona. Four more hours of driving and they could be back home at the Cozy. But he had promised Sally some sleep before he went back to driving. At this point it had been an empty promise. 85 days, he thought, sitting up. 85 days until the start of the season. And there was so much he wanted to do before it started. He’d promised Mater a day trip to Flagstaff. And he wanted to put some work in on the Mustang while he and Doc weren’t busy with the stock car. Not to mention playing around with the Hornet. And then there was all the practice good old Hudson would have him doing. And Lightning would love every grueling moment of it. 

He finally drifted off, listening to the peacefulness of their motel room and imagining himself flying around the butte, Doc Hudson timing laps and leaning on the Hornet. And almost 300 miles away, Doc found himself sleepless, making his way into the garage and over to his desk. He got out his pad of lined paper, sighing as he started to write. The first letter had been hard. Now it was like second nature, fountain pen moving across the page as his thoughts came to him. The thought of calling crossed his mind again as he wrote- hell, he could even visit… 

No. Letters worked fine. He wasn’t a kid from Thomasville anymore, anyway. He was Doc Hudson, Lightning McQueen’s crew chief.


	2. November 2007, Part Two

Homecomings always made up for the time spent away. They rolled into town just after noon with windows down. Mater stood by their garage, staring at his watch with intense concentration as they pulled up. McQueen parked outside for the time being, getting out and walking over to his friend with a smirk. 

“Hey Mater whatcha doing?” 

“Just here waitin’ for Lightnin’ and Miss Sally to get back.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Mater kept his eyes fixed on the watch as he spoke, and Lightning just stood patiently in front of him with a big grin. There was a silent moment before Mater looked up, making eye contact with the racer. “Hey wait! Lightning, when did you get here?!” Lightning laughed, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

“It’s good to see you too, buddy.” 

He stood outside the Cozy, catching up with Mater. He was more interested in hearing about the hotel then the city itself, but Lightning had kind of expected that. He let Sally take the lead on the conversation after seeing Doc head into his garage across the street, and he slipped away while Sally was telling their friend about the hotel’s spa. Flo and Ramone waved to him from the diner as he jogged across the street, and he gave them a friendly smile back, motioning to the garage doors. He’d say proper hellos to everyone after bothering his mentor. 

Doc had left one of the big wooden doors open, so Lightning didn’t bother knocking. He just leaned up against the doorframe, crossing his arms and watching his teacher stand at his desk and scan over various papers. His stock car sat, uncovered, next to the covered form of the Hornet. The old man must have been working on it while McQueen was out of town. The young racer smiled to himself. He’d been missed. For someone who was always grumpy, Doc was a sap. 

“Hey pops.” Doc turned when he finally spoke, giving him a playful glare. 

“Was wondering how long you were just going to stand there.” 

“Whatcha up to?” Lightning uncrossed his arms, walking over to join his mentor at the desk. Specs and blueprints for a car covered the table. 

“I touched up a little under the hood. Not that it needed much work.” 

“How’s she driving?” 

“Haven’t gotten behind the wheel yet. Was waiting for you, kid.”

The 95 tore around the dirt track as Doc watched, leaning against the Mustang he had followed Lightning in. Everything sounded good, and the kid’s driving looked good too. As usual. It had been a dull week without the brat around. And to think just a year or so ago he’d tried to boot the hot shot out of town. Fate’s a bitch, he thought to himself, watching McQueen’s car slide to a stop. The blonde opened his door, stepping out and calling up to where Doc was posted. 

“Feel’s great!”

“Looks like it. You’re looking pretty good too, just need to work on keeping it tight.”

“Sure thing. That can wait though,” That earned him a stern, eyebrows up look from his mentor, but he carried on, “Drinks at Flo’s? On me.” He could see the gears turning in Doc’s head, like he was deciding if it was worth making Lightning stay and run more laps. He finally gave in, sighing. 

“Yeah, alright.” 

“Hang on though, I want to drive my Mustang back.” 

McQueen had a head start down the old road, but it wasn’t long before Doc came flying by him in the stock, and Lightning was sure he caught a glimpse of a smile on the old grumps face. Yeah, definitely a sap.

At Flo’s the pair sat and talked. About New York, about the past racing season, about the next season that was already drawing near. More than anything though, they talked about cars. When Lightning got tired of talking about work with Doc he would always talk about cars. It was the one thing besides pure racing talk that he could get Doc to engage with. Hell, for being two guys with plenty of room and plenty of money, it was crazy that they really only had four cars between the two of them. Lightning had the 95 and his 2005 Mustang, and Doc had the Hudson Hornet and the Club Coupe he had driven around back when he had kept his past a secret from everyone. In fact, Doc teased Lightning about only having the Mustang pretty regularly, that night being no exception.

“Kid, I know how much money you make. And it’s not like the Mustang is even-”

“Wooooah stop right there pops, I know you aren’t about to say something mean about my Mustang.” Lightning gave him a playful glare. “You know how I feel about that car. First thing I ever-”

“First nice thing you ever bought for yourself when you got famous, I know I know. But you aren’t a rookie anymore. You should buy yourself something _nicer_ than a Ford.”

“Is Doc Hudson really dragging the greatest American Motor Company of all time?” 

“Is Lightning McQueen really about to get smacked in the head by his crew chief?” 

Lightning just grinned at him, and in turn Doc rolled his eyes. It wasn’t until the sun was dipping behind the mountains and casting cold shadows across the sands that Doc and Lightning made their way out of the diner, still teasing each other as they walked out to the street. They stood there for a long moment, silent, enjoying the air as it cooled. This is how their long nights together would end. Doc would go right, down the main stretch of road and to his shop. Lightning would cross the street to the Cozy and the little house that sat behind it that he and Sal called home. 

“Well, goodnight, old man.” McQueen said as he started walking across the street, hands in his pockets. 

“Night, kid.” 

Doc watched the racer walk across the parking lot of the Cozy, putting one hand up in a wave before disappearing around the back of the motel. Even after Lightning was well inside his house Doc stood there, feeling the temperature drop as darkness fell on the desert. The neon of the town gave everything a soft glow. The glow coupled with the silence of the night used to feel almost eerie. It hadn’t been that long ago that this little town had he called home was nearly a ghost town. Now there we hardly any empty store front. No dead neon lights. No closed signs falling off dusty windows. There was life here now. And Lightning McQueen was the single thing that brought everything back from the brink of extinction. He’d changed the whole town around- and the lives of everyone in it… Hell. _He_ had changed. McQueen was living, breathing proof that people chould change for the better. 

The same could probably be said about Doc. 

 

Less than a week later, Lightning walked into Doc’s garage to find an old, cleary not in drivable condition, ‘65 Shelby Cobra sitting there, Doc working under the hood. 

“What the heck is going on here?” Lightning asked, true shock to his tone. 

“Thought we could use a project for the winter.” Doc shurgged. “Besides, I told you. You need something nicer than a 2005 Mustang.” 

“Did you buy this? For _me_?”

“Consider it a thank you.” Doc replied, holding a wretch out to Lightning as he walked over. 

“A thank you for what, pops?” 

Doc looked over McQueen. A thank you. A thank you for being a friend to Mater and a boyfriend to Sally. A thank you for the trust, the many hours poured into working with Doc. A thank you for saving the town. A thank you for saving _him_.

“Just help me with this car, kid.”


	3. November and December, 2008

“I didn’t win this season alone.” Lightning said into a microphone, speaking to a crowd of hundreds of thousands. “This win isn’t just mine. This win is for my whole team, because it wouldn’t have happened without them. I’m just the guy who drives the car.” He laughed along with his audience, finding Doc among the crowd by the stage. They shared a soft look. The kid sure had come a hell of a long way from the self righteous brat that had crashed into his damn town two years ago. 

Lightning graciously avoided the mass of reporters looking for further comment as he left the stage, letting Guido and Luigi take care of that as he ducked away, heading for the trailer. Doc met up with him about half way there, bumping his shoulder. “Good job kid, you won yourself a new pen cup.” 

“Says the guy who polished all his and put them in his office last year.” Lightning quipped back, smirking at his mentor. 

“I only did that to remind you have more wins than you.”

“Yeah well you have one more year until you have to stop bragging about that. Next year I’m getting my third golden pen cup.”

Back at the trailer they spent a little while going over highlights (and lowlights, because nobody's perfect). Lightning answered congratulations texts and phone calls. The rest of the day was sort of a blur for the whole 95 team. Interview requests to handle, an appearance here, and appearance there. It was getting late as the stadium finally started to clear out, another season over. Lightning was making his way back to the trailer one last time when a familiar voice called over to him. A voice like nails on a chalkboard to McQueen. 

“Yo McQueen!” 

“What, Chick?” Lightning called back as he turned to face him, voice deadpan. He wasn’t in the mood. He was exhausted, but in a good way. And Chick Hicks made him exhausted, in a bad way. And every time he looked at Chick he just saw Strip Weathers spinning out. How did this guy even still have a sponsor? 

“Congrats on the second win. Too bad you still didn’t beat out on your old man’s wins per season record.” 

“Yeah. I don’t really care about that.” McQueen shoved his hands in his pockets as Chick came up to him. Lightning was short. It didn’t really bother him anymore, because who cares how tall you are when you’re famous, but the fact that he had to look _up_ at Chick to hold eye contact with him when they stood face to face was annoying. “Congrats on placing higher than last year. 12? Not bad. Just two cars shy of top 10.” 

Chick’s eye twitched. He’d really taken a fall in the ranks last season, placing nowhere near his score from the 2006 season. Burn out. It happened. McQueen would usually be way more understanding about it, if it was any other racer. But Hicks? The only guy out there Lightning had no ounce of respect for? He got what was coming to him. Last time Chick Hicks had come up in conversation with Doc, Doc said it was probably his last season. It was looking like Doc was right. Lightning turned on his heel when it was clear Chick didn’t have anything else to say. 

“See you next season, Hicks.” 

They both knew there wasn’t a next season for him. Lightning could feel the holes Chick was trying to burn into the back of his head as he walked away, and he couldn’t help but smirk. Maybe someone that was actually worth being a rival with would take his place on the track next year. Lightning needed someone who could make racing a real challenge again. 

 

Back home the Christmas decorations where starting to go up. Lightning spent his first night back helping Sally decorate both their home and the motel. Lightning and Doc had set up a friendly little charity race for the holidays so everyone wanted to be prepared for that. Some good racers where coming into town to have a go at Lightning on his home turf- or, dirt, rather. Aiken Axler, Todd Marcus, Ruby Oaks… Apparently even a Weathers was going to show up for the race, but Strip wanted to make it clear it wasn’t him that was going to be getting behind the wheel. 

The town was in full swing by the end of November, the big race scheduled for December 4th. Lightning helped Sally out with the motel as much as he could, but he occasionally found himself slipping off to tinker with the Cobra. He and Doc had got it working not long after Doc had just bought it, and with a new coat of paint the thing was near perfect by now. But Lightning liked to play around with it as much as Doc liked to play around with the Hornet. It was how he cleared his head. 

He was “busy” tinkering when there was a soft knock on the garage doors. Lightning pulled his head out from under the hood, expecting to see Sally or Doc wanting his help with something. Instead, Strip Weathers stood in the doorway, a younger, but clearly related man standing beside him. He seemed to be around the same age as McQueen, and looked strangely familiar too.

“Oh! Hey Mr. The King!” Lightning grabbing a rag to wipe the grease from his hands as he walked over. 

“Hey Lightning. Been a while. Sorry to interrupt your work.”

“Hey don’t worry about it. I’m just messing around in here so I don’t get in Sal’s way.” He laughed some, tossing the rag aside. 

“I wanted to introduce you to Cal here, he’s my nephew.” Strip said, giving the guy with him a pat on the back. Cal was taller than lightning. Considerably so. But so was Strip. Well, so were a lot of people. But that was beside the point. Lightning looked up at him with a smile, holding out his hand. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to finally meet you too, McQueen.” Cal smiled back, Texas accent strong as spoke. “Seen every race you’ve been in.” 

“So I’m going to take a wild guess here and say you’re the one Strip said was going to race, huh?” 

“That’s right, good guess.” Cal laughed. Lightning felt his heart hiccup. 

He offered to show Cal around, since he’d never been to town. They walked down the main street, chatting about racing. The reason Cal looked so familiar, Lightning realized, is because he’d been around the track a lot with his uncle when Lightning was a rookie. Cal told him how much of a fan he was after that tie breaker race, and how happy he was to see Lightning win two seasons. He was older than Lightning, but only by a year. Said he’d always wanted to race big time but Strip wasn’t about to let him get out on the track with a guy who’d almost killed him. They ended up taking the Mustang out to the butte so Cal could get a look at where they’d be racing.

“I’m not scared of a little dirt.” Cal joked as they got out of the car to walk to the edge, looking down over the track. “All my practice back home is on dirt.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Lightning grinned, looking at Cal instead of the track. He and Sally had this rule. They didn’t really call it an open relationship, but that’s kind of what it was. They had to spend a lot of time apart during the season- sometimes even during the off season. Lightning would never judge Sally for needing companionship while he was gone. Sally did the same for him. The only rule was; you had to come home at the end. Lightning had never really found himself wanting to act on the open nature of his relationship with Sally. There was only one time, mid season in 2007, that he’d invited a girl back to his hotel room. She hadn’t even ended up staying the night. But there was something about Cal that made Lightning feel light in all the same ways that Sally did. His laugh was distracting. The Texas draw intoxicating. The way he kept tucking a piece of his soft brown hair back behind his ear… 

_Oh my god? Am I bi?_  
“You like brunettes.” Sally told him, very matter of fact. They were laying in bed, and she had been reading while Lightning had been flipping through a magazine. He’d been unable to shake his thoughts about Strip’s nephew- and lucky for him he knew he could talk to Sally. About anything. McQueen blinked, watching her as her eyes stayed on her book while she talked. “That’s just your thing, patches. You like brunettes.” 

“You think I only like you because you have brown hair?” He joked- or, half joked. 

“No, but that’s why you thought I was attractive when we first met.” 

“Yeah… Yeah okay. I guess I can’t argue with that. But Cal- he’s-.”

“Lightning.” She set her book down, looking at him with serious eyes but a soft smile on her lips. “You like brunettes.”

 

The 4th rolled around and the butte buzzed with excitement. A few photographers, a few reporters, friends and family of the racers… It was a pretty exclusive event. It was more for the racers than anyone else. Just something fun to do. Their tires kicked up a little bit of dirt as they went flying around the track. Lightning kept it tight, manipulating the way his tires moved across the earth, drifting around curves and using the straights for speed. Cal kept it tighter. 

Nobody would say it, but nobody had expected Lightning McQueen to be taken down on his own track. Granted, it wasn’t like Weathers had won by much. Half a car’s length was all that separated Lightning’s bright red stock car from crossing the line first. McQueen pulled his helmet off as he got out of his car, forcing the shock of coming second down to flash a smile at Cal and congratulate him. Besides, this was a friendly charity match. It wasn’t a piston cup race. It didn’t matter. Or, that’s what Lightning had to remind himself. 

“You were distracted, kid. Been a while since I’ve seen you race like that.” Doc put his hand on McQueen’s back, dragging him out of his thoughts as he watched Strip and Cal get photos taken in front of the _almost_ Dinoco Blue stock car Cal had used. “You listening?”

“Huh?” 

“Kid.” Doc sighed, giving an exasperated chuckle. “I said, you were distracted. But I guess you _are_ distracted.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry pops.”

Doc followed the kid’s eyes over to Cal Weathers. Damn brunettes. He’d drop it, for now. He knew McQueen would sort himself out before the next season. 

“Why don’t you offer to buy him a congratulations drink at Flo’s, idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Pls bare with me if you don't like Cal/McQueen, the relationships in this fic are most certainly not the most important thing. ALSO I'm bad at editing so if you see mistakes forgive me pls c:


	4. May, 2009

They had popped back home for a few days between racer for a much needed break. McQueen had gotten up early, something he usually settled into during the season, and gone for a run before grabbing the mail and going inside to make some coffee. One letter, on the top of the pile, made him stop in his tracks as it caught his eye when he set the stack down. He picked it up, frowning. At least he was alone? And at least he had gotten the mail. 

The address was handwritten. It was addressed to Monty. 

McQueen sat down at the table, staring at the off white letter envelope for a long time. The return address was Brantley, Alabama- and frankly McQueen didn’t want to open it. He wasn’t Monty McQueen of Brantley fucking Alabama anymore. He was Lightning McQueen, two time Piston Cup Champion. He’d killed Monty McQueen the night he’d driven across the Alabama border and never looked back. This letter wasn’t for the person he was now. 

But curiosity was always something that would get the better of him. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out the papers it contained. A two page, handwritten letter on notebook paper and a few printed pages on white copy paper greeted him with again, the name Monty scrawled across the top of the first page. He read through everything, tossed them in the trash, made a cup of coffee in a travel mug and walked over to Doc’s garage. 

Doc was surprised to see Lightning working on the Cobra so early in the morning. It was just turning 6AM when he walked into the garage to see the kid tinkering away, and it looked like he had already been at for a while. 

“Morning.” Doc called over to him, walking over to his desk to set his cup of coffee down. “You’re at it early today. Something on your mind?” 

“I got a letter from my aunt.” McQueen replied, voice flat. Doc raised an eyebrow, noting the tightness in the kid’s shoulders. He had never heard anything about the hotshot’s family. Not even a passing mention. Doc had always assumed something had happened there- McQueen was _young_ his rookie year, and he had lived alone prior to coming to town. 

“Didn’t realize you had an aunt.” Doc commented as he pulled his chair out and sat down. 

“Yeah well…” Lightning paused, breathing out softly. “She just wanted to let me know my old man is gone. Doesn’t really make any sense though, considering that my old man is right here in this garage with me.” A silence fell over them. Doc wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t seem like Lightning _cared_ about the news, and yeah… Doc considered Lightning to be the closest thing to a family he had these days, it was unsurprising the the kid felt the same way. They had clicked together like two gears once they had both swallowed their damn pride all those years ago. Lightning knew Doc better than anyone. And Doc felt like he knew Lightning the best too, save for maybe Sally. But there were always things they probably wouldn’t know about each other. Doc had figured Lightning’s family would be one of those things. 

“Sorry, kid.” Was all Doc could think to say after the silence threatened to continue on for too long. 

“‘S fine. It’s not like we were close. I haven’t spoken to him in like… five years. Or something like that. He wasn’t exactly a great dad.”

“I figured. You’ve never talked about him. Or anything from your childhood, really.”

“My life started when I was 17, Doc. Anything before that isn’t _my_ past.”

“So who’s past is it?” 

 

_The hum of the air conditioner blended with the sound of the cars on TV as they zoomed around the track. Strip “The King” Weathers in the lead, three laps to go. Monty imagined what it must feel like to be there, just over 400 miles away, with the Florida sun beating down on the back of your neck and the smell of gas and oil all around you as engines roared. What it must feel like to see The King take another Piston Cup._

_The high of watching a race wore off later that day, as he sat in his room and listened to his sister and father screaming at one another. He didn’t even know what this fight was over. It didn’t matter anymore, a fight was a fight. Glass would break and doors would slam and then it would be over for a few hours. He slipped out to go to work while they were still yelling._

_His sister was gone the next morning. A scribbled note addressed to Monty explained that she was going to Jacksonville. She had a friend there. “Please don’t tell dad.” He burned the note with a candle flame and lied to his father’s face. He’d gotten used to lying. His dad always wanted money. Cigarettes, alcohol, drugs… they were expensive. He paid his fair share for groceries, bought gas for his car, and the rest went into box he kept under the passenger seat of the beater Ford Taurus he drove around, and lied to his father about how much he made. Lying about his sister came just as easy. She deserved to have a better life. Just like Monty would have some day._

_The day he found the fridge empty of anything but beer for the fourth damn night in the row should have been the last straw. Or the night his old man had come home wasted and screamed at the empty room of his sister like she was still there should have been it. But the last little straw that broke the camel's back was an off hand comment about Monty needing to grow up and stop idolizing a guy who drove in circles for a million dollars a week._

_Monty McQueen got in the car and drove. He drove till he could hardly keep his eyes open, then he pulled over and slept for a few hours. Rinse and repeat. The next few months were a constant struggle of sleeping in his car and doing odd jobs. He got a name change. He found an agent. He was going to make this work. He took the first sponsor that wanted him. Red wasn’t his color but it would work until he proved himself. He made sure it was impossible for anyone to trace Lightning McQueen back to Brantley, Alabama_

_After the first race he bought a fire red Mustang on credit and sold the Taurus for scrap. He was going to be someone._

 

And now he was someone. 

In fact, he was someone even better than Monty McQueen could have ever hoped to be. Monty McQueen wanted to drive hot rods and bring back models to his LA penthouse every nice. He wanted his name and face plastered all over the world. But life was so much more than that. 

All he needed now was a family. And he had that in Mater and Sally, in Guido and Luigi, in Flo, Ramone, Red, Mack, Fillmore and Sarge- hell even Lizzy. And he had a father in Doc Hudson. 

Lightning finally took his head out from under the hood of the car and walked over to Doc, hugging him. It didn’t matter who he had been and where he came from. All he cared about what where he was going and who was coming with him. 

That night McQueen fished the envelope out of the kitchen trash can, ripping the return address off and re-discarding of the rest. He was never that great at writing letters, but he figured he should at least try. He probably owed his aunt an update… A lot had changed. He wrote about Sally, and how her smile could light up even the darkest caves. He wrote about finding himself in Arizona, about how the emptiness made him feel full. He wished her the best, and signed off the letter as Lightning McQueen. 

Doc sat at the desk in his garage, starting what had to be the 50th or so letter that he’d sent back to his hometown. _”The kid’s dad died. I didn’t even know he had family still around. Of course, I guess I can’t blame him. That would make me a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?”_


	5. January - November, 2011

McQueen sat in the Cobra, arms resting on top of the steering wheel as he stared out over the butte. The hot sun shined down over the desert sands. The birds went about their days. Lizards sunbathed on top of warm rocks without a single care in the world. A plane passed over head. It all made Lightning want to scream. How could the sun keep shining? How could birds still fly? How could life just keep going on like that!?

How could he keep going on, without Doc. 

It had been so unexpected. One day they were out on the track together, the next he was gone. The last few days had just been a whirlwind blur of arrangements and condolences flooding the town. Everyone who was anyone wanted to be at that funeral… but Lightning wouldn’t have it and neither would anyone else in the town. Doc wouldn’t have wanted all those people there. Just the ones he liked. The racer felt a little guilty for slipping away after the funeral without really saying anything to anyone… but all he really wanted now was just be alone with himself. For days he’d had to put on a brave face and deal with setting things up. At least Doc had made the will execution easy… everything went to Lightning. But felt like he hadn’t really been able to process anything yet. 

Now that he was able to sit alone, thinking, he decided he was angry. Not at Doc, not at life or any god or, anything, really. He was just angry. Angry and sad. What was he going to do now? Doc wasn’t why he raced… but he was the fire that kept him going. He let himself cry a little, in the comfortable emptiness of the desert, where only the memories of the 95 and the Hornet flying around corners could see his tears.

A few days later Sally stood beside Lightning in the early morning light, watching him as he stared into the garage. 

“Doc sure held onto a lot of crap.” He said finally, stepping inside. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Patches…” Sally followed her boyfriend in, placing her hand against his back. “We don’t have to do this now, you know.”

“I’m fine, Sal.”

He’d been saying that a lot lately, to pretty much everyone he knew. He was pretty sure no one believed him. But as long as they didn’t press him on it, he didn’t care if they believed the lie or not. The racer went to the desk, starting to go through what papers had been left there. There was still unopened mail tucked into the desk drawers. Lightning wasn’t sure what to do with it. Throw it out? But what if it was something important? Should he open it? But that didn’t feel right either. It was Doc’s, and Doc was a private person. Was Doc even his name, or just a nickname? 

Mater whistled as he entered the garage, breaking Lightning out his thoughts. He turned away from the desk to his friend. Mater was looking around the garage, his hands in the pockets of his overalls. 

“Doc has a lotta stuff, huh?”

“That’s what I said.” Lightning laughed some. “There’s already a bunch of stuff in the museum… but I guess we can expand his wing there.” 

“Yeah,” Sally joined in. “The Hornet would be a great addition.” 

McQueen’s eyes moved away from his friend and over to the shape of the hornet under its cover, face darkening with some unreadable expression that made Sally and Mater frown at each other. The whole town was grieving, and no one had gotten back to being their normal selves yet. But McQueen was the worst of them all… because he wouldn’t let anyone see his emotions. Sally hadn’t even seen him cry. Not the day it happened, not at the funeral, not even now, as he stood amidst all of his mentor’s things, eyes locked on that car. She was worried about him. Mater clearly was too. Everyone was. 

“Yeah.” he finally said, turning his head to Sally. “Yeah it would, Sal.” 

They spent the off season cleaning up the garage and picking what things they wanted to put in the museum. The day they pulled the Hornet into its new resting place was the day Lightning left town, ready to race again. He didn’t hire a new crew chief. Doc was the only person would could tell him something he didn’t know- anyone else talking into his ear piece would just be a distraction. 

Anyone who had been worried about the loss of Doc affecting Lightning’s ability to race was quickly proved wrong. He was on track with his previous years, a nearly unstoppable fury of a driver. Doc’s teachings rang in his ears when he needed them to. But even though he proved he was still a force to be reckoned with, his grief wasn’t going completely unnoticed. His racing style changed. _He_ changed. He was a machine going through it’s motions. He hadn’t lost his ability, but he sure as hell had lost a little bit of his spirit. When the Piston Cup had announced this years Piston Cup was going to be renamed the Hudson Hornet Piston Cup to honor the late Doc Hudson, Lightning made up his mind that he was going to be the one who held that stupid gold cup at the end of the season. 

Sally worried that was the only thing that was keeping him from falling completely apart. 

When the 95 flew across the last finish line of the season the stadium filled with cheers. Lightning spoke to a crowd of ghosts as he mirrored his other winning speeches. _“I didn’t win this season alone. Doc is always here with me.”_ He stayed for interviews and photos. He answered questions about Doc for the first time that season. No, he wouldn’t have a new crew chief next year. No, he wouldn’t be asking to retire 51. Lightning was always relieved to climb into his trailer after a race and all the following press conferences and photo shoots. Now so more than ever, because when he was finally alone, collapsed on the small couch, he could let his wall down and feel everything he had been holding in all day. He looked at the trophy laying next to him, feeling stupid for tearing up. 

“Hey Doc, you see this? I got another one. And this one isn’t just a stupid cup, okay? Because this one was for you.” 

Silence. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. What, was Doc going to walk in and pat him on the back and tell him he did a good job? McQueen wasn’t ever very sure what he believed in, but he knew one thing. Doc was gone from his life, and he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t like the family he’d left behind in Alabama, who could always seek out again if he wanted to. Doc was unreachable. He knew he wasn’t alone… He had Sally, and Mater and everyone else on the team and back home in Arizona. But in the moments when he missed Doc Hudson, he felt alone. Isolated. Helpless. He remembered how things used to be, when he would go for a walk and return to find Doc waiting for him, ready to talk about how the race went after rewatching some footage. They would talk about what was good and what needed worked on… And now he was sitting alone. No one to go over the race with. This was the new normal. 

For the first time, he wasn’t ready to go home now that the season was done. He wasn’t ready to see the Hornet sitting in its new spot in the museum. He wasn’t ready to pop down to Flo’s for breakfast and not see Doc sitting there. He wasn’t ready to figure out how to move on. _What would Doc say if he knew I was sitting here wallowing like this after a win?_ He thought as he stood, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket and heading for the door. Things had probably calmed down now, and a walk sounded nice. Walking the stadium after it had cleared out, just letting the bright lights and the smell of gas and burn out overtake you… he loved it. It was a great way to clear the mind.

Cat Power’s _Metal Heart_ poured from his headphones and into his brain and soul. The smells of the track meeting the lyrics and threatening to take him- to shut him down. But he’d become pretty damn good at walling himself off. No one but Doc’s ghost was allowed to see him cry. He scrolled through the texts on his phone. The many unread “congrats on another win!” and “Doc would be proud!”. Would he? Would Doc be proud? Statistically he’d had a great season. He’d lived up to his previous standings. But as for his passion, his character… Doc probably wouldn’t be proud of this season. When Doc died he’d taken all of Lightning's Spirit with him. The laughs and banter, the pride in a good race, the smiles and thrill. Gone. 

His finger stopped on a text thread, hesitating before opening it. 

**[CALIFORNIA]** : Great race! Sorry I didn’t stop by after, I figured you’d want some time alone.   
Lightning found himself smiling, opening the thread and quickly typing a reply. 

**[LMQ]** : Thanks!   
**[LMQ]** : And thanks, I did need some time.   
**[LMQ]** : Hey, by the way. Can I ask a favor? 

The now four-time champ made his plans, calling his girlfriend to make sure it would be okay with her before he locked it in. Two days later he was speeding down across Texas, the windows of his Mustang rolled down to let the warm air tossle his blonde hair. He couldn’t face the town without Doc being there yet. This would be a good distraction. He followed the directions that had been sent to him, turning down back roads and speeding along their long empty stretches before finding his destination, pulling into the long driveway and making his way up to the farm house. Cal Weathers came walking off the front porch as Lightning parked his car and got out, smiling like the sun after a monsoon. 

“Hey McQueen! Glad you made it!”


End file.
